


This is my rifle.

by mollynoble



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble/pseuds/mollynoble
Summary: “Marine training is essentially a psychological battle against the instinct for self-preservation.” - Nathaniel Fick, Former Captain, First Reconnaissance Battalion, USMC





	1. Is The Corps Issuing Soulmates at the Armory?

**Author's Note:**

> I am a Marine veteran but I am NOT a Scout Sniper. I did quite a bit of research and I did my best to make this as accurate as possible, however I took some artistic licence here and there for the sake of the story. I have chosen to do away with gender restrictions in this universe, in reality women cannot be Scout Snipers.
> 
> Many, many thanks go to my babe [Arcee](http://madetobeworthy.tumblr.com/), the amazing [Rachel](http://sleepwalkerindreamersclothing.tumblr.com/) and fantastic [Howler](http://howler32557038.tumblr.com/) for helping bring this to life. Any and all mistakes are my own.

**Is The Corps Issuing Soulmates at the Armory?** // MARINE NEWS CAMP PENDLETON // March 3rd, 2009 // By Cpl. Peter Parker

_The age old joke, if the Corps wanted you to have a Soulmate it would issue you one. Well, on the first Monday of this year, it wasn’t a joke at all. Here, at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Calif, two Marines exchanged their first words, becoming a dual military pair. Dual military pairs are not particularly rare, making up about 15% of pairs across all the services. On the surface this makes this pair not that unusual, but more typically a pair joins together rather than meeting in the service._

_Both Marines involved are notable on their own as well as the circumstances surrounding this pair’s meeting being unusual. According to the DD137 filed with IPACC, Sgt C. Barton and Cpl J. Barnes exchanged their words on January 5th. An eyewitness account states that it happened directly in front of the armoury, as Barnes was being issued his M40A3 sniper rifle. That's right, sniper rifle._

_Barnes was being issued a rifle because he had just begun Scout Sniper Basic Course or SSBC. Snipers have been the focus of envy and the personification of legends in the Marine Corps since men like Carlos Hathcock and Chuck Mawhinney looked down their scopes in the jungles of Vietnam. Scout Snipers provide close reconnaissance and surveillance to the infantry battalion. By doctrine, a Scout Sniper is a Marine highly skilled in field craft and marksmanship who delivers long range precision fire on selected targets from concealed positions in support of combat operations. Marines on the ground typically refer to these Scout Snipers as Guardian Angels, likening them to a spirit that is believed to watch over and protect them. With a 30 percent washout rate for each class SSBC is considered to be one of the hardest schools in the Marine Corps. Few have what it takes to earn the title Scout Sniper._

_The grueling 9 week course begins with classes on skills such as camouflage, individual movement, weapons systems, observations, and field sketches. The Known Distance (KD) Range includes targets from 300 to 1000 yards. After the KD range students move on to stalking, this involves moving from a distance of 1200 yards to within 200 yards of an observation post undetected. During the Unknown Distance (UKD) phase, students will become experts at engaging targets at unknown distances by way of range estimation and range cards._

_Barton is an instructor at SSBC and for Barnes’ class, 1-09. Regulations state that Soulmates will not be placed into a unit directly under or above a Soulmate in order to avoid abuse of privileges or favoritism. However Barton has remained an instructor with the class. When the commanding officer of SSBC, Colonel Fury, was asked for an explanation on this decision he was not available for comment. MGySgt Hill stated the Colonel had made the decision to allow Barton to remain an instructor with class 1-09. She went on to say that while the circumstances were unusual, regulations were being followed. MGySgt Hill concluded with saying the Colonel had spoken to both Marines personally and that he has complete confidence in Sgt Barton and Cpl Barnes’ ability to remain professional._

_Cont on pg 21._


	2. PIG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PIG** : “Professionally Instructed Gunmen” Refers to Marine Scout Snipers who have not yet graduated Scout Sniper Basic Course.

**TRAINING DAY 1 // JAN 05, 09 // 1447**

She was beautiful. Barnes couldn't help but stop and admire her, running his hand over her green fiberglass stock. He knew the rifle was extremely accurate and sturdy. They were designed from the ground up to be a superb sniper rifle and ranked with the best in the world. But a bunch of facts about barrel length and trigger guard assembly were nothing compared to holding her in his hands. For the first time since deciding to try for Scout Snipers Basic Course he felt some trepidation, he could only now hope he would do right by her. He wondered if he should name her. Probably not - too cliche. Or at least, if he did, he should keep that information to himself. 

His first day at SSBC had started with being assigned their “battle buddies” which at first had seemed a jab of sorts, treating them like raw recruits fresh from boot camp. They were instructed to stay together at all times. Staff Sergeant Coulson, the lead instructor of the class, was clear how important the relationship between a sniper and his spotter was. 

“The Marine next to you will be not leave your side until you fail out or graduate. If you make it through the next sixty days and become a Scout Sniper you will work in the no-man's-land between or behind battle lines. You will have little or no support from your unit, and if you don't accomplish your missions Marines. Will. Die.” He paused, his eyes roving over the faces of the 32 Marines standing in formation in front of him before continuing “Marines, the modern sniper is not a lone wolf, they are half of a team, you will depend on each other for survival. And that may very well be the most important lesson you learn here.”

After the Staff Sergeants speech they were instructed to stand by while the instructors got ready for the next step of checking in. Barnes turned to look at the Corporal next to him, who offered his hand with a grin.

“I’m Sam and you must be the lucky bastard who's gonna get a front row seat to how fantastic I am.” 

His grin just grew in response to Barnes’ unimpressed snort.

“Sure, just as long as you don’t slow me down feel free to be _fantastic_.”

Then the instructors moved the class along, no more time for chit chat. They jumped straight into a Physical Fitness Test; 20 pull-ups, 100 crunches and a 3-mile run weren't exactly exhausting, but it was stressful knowing how much the score mattered. They could be dropped from the course before they even started if they came in under a 1st class. After the PFT they had moved on to seemingly endless hours of running around dealing with intake processing bullshit and a service record check for ‘prerequisite compliance’. 

Finally, now that the gear check was done, they were being issued their M40A3 rifles. Wilson had slung his while waiting for Barnes to get his own, then turned and started to move on once Barnes had his in hand, not accounting for Barnes’ hesitating to marvel over the weapon. 

“Oscar Mike Corporal!” Barnes flinched, but it wasn’t the first time since getting promoted to Corporal he’d heard his words barked at him, and it likely wouldn't be the last. He had obviously lingered too long outside the armory window, so he quickly slung the rifle and moved, with a quick glance at the rank of the instructor who had called him out.

“Roger that Sergeant.” It was then, walking quickly to follow after Wilson, that he noticed the words that lined the edge of his trigger finger and went up his wrist were tingling. His feet dragged to a hault as he turned to look at the Sergeant that was gaping at him. They stood there staring at each other, until one of the other instructors interrupted. 

“What the fuck is the hold up!” Staff Sergeant Coulson demanded “let's get a move on, we gotta finish this trash by 15 hundred.” 

Barnes wasn’t sure what to do, he found himself frozen between the impatient Staff Sergeant and the Sergeant who was apparently his soulmate. Barton, according to his nametape. He’d briefly introduced himself to the class that morning with the other instructors but Barnes had been focused on a million other things. Now, really looking at him for the first time, he noted the powerful biceps straining his crisply rolled sleeves and the square jaw, and his mouth went dry. He’d always known, just by the nature of his words, that his soulmate would be a Marine. But he would be lying if he said he’d never worried it would be some bald, angry, gunny who was telling him to get on the move.

Obviously, this Sergeant out-ranked him but the difference from Corporal to Sergeant wasn’t huge, and he couldn't be more than a few years older than him. The fact that he was his instructor was briefly a thought for concern but Barnes found himself quickly forgetting practical concerns as his eyes raked down, then back up the man in front of him. He looked to be the same height as him, maybe an inch or two taller, but he was broader through the shoulders and goddamn he filled that uniform out nicely.

Barton’s look of shock was rapidly turning into a pleased smirk while he returned Barnes’ assessment. Wilson had finally noticed that Barnes wasn’t behind him and had backtracked to maintain the required one-arms distance between them.

“Oh shit, no way.” Wilson grinned, Barnes didn’t know him well enough yet to know if he was pleased _for_ Barnes or if it was that he had gotten front row seats to an exchange of words. But then Wilson reached out, clapping Barnes on the shoulder “nice man, congrats.” His open smile was genuine and Barnes couldn't help but return it, deciding then he was glad this was the guy he was going to spend the next 60 days attached at the hip with. That was when the Staff Sergeant put what had just happened together.

“You have got to be kidding me. Only you Barton. Seriously, right now? This is gonna be a fucking pain in the ass. Romanoff, finish getting the pigs over to classroom three, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with this mess. You” said with a forceful point at Wilson “stay with the class.” The Staff Sergeant didn’t pause to hear Romanoff's acknowledgment, from the first words out of his mouth he was in motion. He grabbed Barton by the back of the neck dragging him along and gestured for Barnes to follow. “We’re on a tight fucking schedule, this is gonna be more paperwork for me, and I’m gonna take it out of your ass Barton.” 

“Wait, what’s the problem, it’s just one form right? I can just swing by IPAC tomorrow.” Barton’s tone clearly implied how unimportant he found the concept of paperwork.

“If he was a goddamn civilian, or even if he was just in another unit, but you’re his instructor, that's against regs. This is going to be a fucking cluster fuck Barton, you giant pain in my ass.” Barnes would have been worried for his new soulmate, but the Staff Sergeant sounded more annoyed than truly pissed.

“Aww, boss, it’s not like I did it on purpose.” He kept grinning at Barnes over Coulson’s head, obviously not really worried about being out of regulation at all.

“Barton, shut up,” Coulson huffed.

Then the word sunk in, making Barnes suddenly worry, what if he wouldn’t be able to stay in SSBC? 

“Umm, I’m not gonna get dropped, right? ‘Cause I really don't want to sit on my ass for another three months waiting to pick up in the next class.” He did his best to sound tactful, but he knew he was probably not doing a very good job of it.

“Yes, a man after my heart, let's make sure you can learn to shot badass guns before anything else.” Not only did Barnes agree with this sentiment, the best part was his soulmate’s tone was completely serious, happy, but serious. Shooting badass guns was definitely the first priority.

The Staff Sergeant ignored Barton’s input and answered Barnes question “Corporal, I honestly don’t know. We have to talk to the Colonel.”


	3. OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT // NON-CLASSIFIED

///EXCERPT OF OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT///

MARINES PRESENT: COL N. FURY, MGYSGT M. HILL, SSGT P. COULSON, SGT C. BARTON, CPL J. BARNES.

FURY: LOOK, I DON’T REALLY GIVE A FUCK, I JUST NEED TO KNOW IF THIS IS GOING TO BE A PROBLEM. CAN THESE TWO WORK TOGETHER WITHOUT TURNING INTO LOVESTRUCK IDIOTS? 

HILL: ALL DUE RESPECT SIR, BUT DOES IT MATTER? REGULATION... (INT)

COULSON: SIR, THEY DID NOT EXCHANGE WORDS UNTIL AFTER THE START OF THE COURSE, TECHNICALLY... (INT)

FURY: FUCK TECHNICALITIES PHIL, DON’T MAKE THIS DIFFICULT FOR ME.

HILL: ACTUALLY SIR, COULSON HAS A GOOD POINT. IT’S A LOOPHOLE REALLY. SINCE THEY DID NOT EXCHANGE WORDS UNTIL AFTER THE START OF THE COURSE THEY CAN BOTH STAY. SHUFFLING AROUND INSTRUCTORS OR CHANGING THE CORPORALS CLASS WOULD BE MORE PAPERWORK.

FURY: I DO NOT WANT MORE PAPERWORK. BARTON, CAN YOU MANAGE TO NOT BE BLINDED BY THIS WHOLE SOULMATE BULLSHIT?

BARTON: UH, YES, SIR.

FURY: WHAT ABOUT YOU BARNES, YOU GONNA BE A PROBLEM FOR ME?

BARNES: NO, SIR.

FURY: GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, PHIL KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SITUATION, DON’T ALLOW ME LETTING THIS SLIDE BITE ME IN THIS ASS.

COULSON: YES, SIR

///END OF TRANSCRIPT///


	4. HOG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **HOG** : "Hunter Of Gunmen" a colloquial name for a sniper who has killed an enemy sniper in combat, more typically used to refer to Marine Scout Snipers who have graduated Scout Sniper Basic Course.

**TRAINING DAY 5 // JAN 09, 09 // 0714**

Clint’s legs were burning. He hated this hill, he hated running, and at the moment, he hated pretty much everything. They’d been pushing the Marines from 0’ dark too fucking early on day two. The point was to run them hard right out of the gate, weed out any weak links sooner rather than later. Obviously it was easier as an instructor who unlike the pigs, didn’t have packs and rifles on this run for instance. But it was still a painful amount of physical training. He would never say it out loud, or at least not within Coulson’s hearing, but he despised these first few weeks of every rotation. It was downright boring, all PT and basic shit. He hated teaching skill classes for things like goddamn camouflage. And the first week on the range was a joke, if these guys didn’t already know the marksmanship skills they taught over that week they didn’t belong here in the first place. 

If he was in a better mood, like maybe if he hadn't been running up a fucking mountain for the last three fucking hours, he would be more open minded to the concept of creating a strong foundation of knowledge that they would then build on. But as it was, he writing a list of complaints in his head as he puffed along.

About a mile back they had stopped and the pigs had to make a field sketch. Once the pairs were each done to Coulson’s standards, they’d been allowed to finish the run in their pair rather than as a class. It was the final stretch, once you made it back it was straight to shit, shower, and shave. The faster you finished the run the more time you had before your ass had to be in a seat ready for class at 0830. Romanoff had left with the first batch of Marines and Coulson had stayed to breath down the necks of the stragglers. He himself had left with the middling group but was gaining on the front of the pack steadily, he wanted time for coffee before he had to lecture on how to select a good firing position. 

He could see the backs of Romanoff and the four other Marines who had been the first released by Coulson. One of them was his soulmate. He’d been doing his best to not think too hard about the whole finding his soulmate thing. He’d never put much faith in the whole idea of a perfectly compatible person picked out for you by fate, destiny, God or some shit. He’d grown up watching his sweet, gentle mother get knocked around by her soulmate. What kind of God would decide she needed to die wrapped around a tree because her soulmate was alcoholic asshole?

Then his brother was one of those rare people without any words on his skin. It made him reckless by every meaning of the word, he lived like he had nothing to live for. Clint had never understood that, Barney had had him after all. Why was absence of a promise of some ‘perfect’ match more important than the flesh and blood brother at his side. 

After his first rotation in Afghanistan they had made him go see the wizard. It was standard, coming back from a combat deployment, with a stack of confirmed kills, of course they wanted to make sure he didn't snap and climb a bell tower with a high powered rifle. He didn’t have much to say about much of anything to the shrink, but after his mandatory five hours were over she’d signed off on him. Clint may have taken a peek at his file that last day, a few phrases in her flowing cursive had jumped out; ‘signs of depression’, ‘fear of abandonment’ and ‘abysmal self-worth’. He figured she was probably right, but he’d been cleared to get back to shooting things so he did what he did best. Try and not think about it. 

He hadn’t spoken to Barnes at all since that first day. After the Colonel cleared them Coulson had taken them to IPAC to fill out the paperwork, as if he didn’t trust Clint to do it on his own. With Coulson standing there tapping his foot, literally, there hadn't been much in the way of conversation besides what's your middle initial and birthdate? Then, well, there was training. They’d been busy. It wasn’t Clint trying to avoid having an honest conversation about feelings, at least not _completely_. 

Unfortunately, not thinking about Barnes was harder when he found himself running a few steps behind him and confronted with a truly magnificent ass. For all that he was on the fence about ‘hey we just met let’s share a lease and adopt a dog’ thing he was sure he enjoyed this view. Those thighs alone were enough for Clint to start to reassess a lifetime of being a non-believer.

He didn’t know what to do, should he stay back here, should he say something, pass them? Bishop, the Marine in the back of the little group made the decision for him, looking over her shoulder she spotted Clint. Bishop's eyes went wide and she looked at Barnes, who picked up on something happening and looked too. There was a moment of eye contact where Clint found himself internally cursing the fact that his pale complexion made him look like a flushed and sweaty mess while at the same time cursing how unfair it was that Barnes looked so good right now. 

“Morning Sergeant.” Oh for fucks sake, the asshole was smirking at him and didn't even sound out of breath. Nat snorted a laugh, Clint considered adding her to the list of things he hated. 

“Ugh.” 

Nat laughed again, yeah she was definitely going on the list. She was supposed to be his friend, not laugh at his inability to use full sentences before coffee. Although, admittedly, _ugh_ wasn't even a start of a sentence. Barnes just smiled at him, still clearly pleased with himself, but it was a nice smile. It definitely did not have anything to do with Clint stumbling and almost falling. There was a rough spot or a dip on the trail or something. 

“Oh fuck you Romanoff.” He put on a burst of speed, passing them and running away from Nat’s stupid giggle snorts and Barnes’ ridiculous deep sexy chuckle, muttering to himself “It’s too fucking early for this shit.”


	5. REQUIREMENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BASIC REQUIREMENTS THAT MUST BE MET IN ORDER TO ATTEND SSBC. STUDENTS MUST BE IN COMPLIANCE AND REPORT WITH THE FOLLOWING GEAR OR THEY WILL BE RETURNED TO THEIR UNIT:

PREREQUISITES:

LANCE CORPORAL THROUGH CAPTAIN 

INFANTRY MOS or MOS 0203 (GROUND INTELLIGENCE OFFICER)

VISION CORRECTABLE TO 20/20 IN BOTH EYES (THIS MEANS EYEGLASSES AND CONTACT LENSES ARE AUTHORIZED) COLOR BLINDNESS IS DISCOURAGED

SERVING IN OR DESIGNATED FOR ASSIGNMENT TO A SCOUT SNIPER BILLET.

MINIMUM OF 12 MONTHS REMAINING ON CURRENT CONTRACT ON COMPLETION OF COURSE (DOES NOT APPLY TO RESERVISTS)

MUST SCORE A FIRST CLASS PFT ON COURSE CONVENE DATE

CURRENT RIFLE EXPERT, MUST HAVE QUALIFIED IN THE LAST FISCAL YEAR

NO COURT MARTIAL OR NJP WITHIN THE LAST SIX MONTHS

MINIMUM GT OF 100.

NO HISTORY OF MENTAL ILLNESS

MUST BE A VOLUNTEER.

IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED, BUT NOT REQUIRED FOR THE STUDENT TO HAVE COMPLETED THE FOLLOWING MCI COURSES: LAND NAVIGATION, PATROLLING, CALLING AND ADJUSTING SUPPORTING ARMS, AND RECONNAISSANCE MARINE. IT IS ALSO RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED, THAT THE STUDENT HAVE CONDUCTED BASIC SCOUT SNIPER FIELD SKILLS: STALKS, CONCEALMENT, FIELD SKETCHES, RANGE CARDS, RANGE ESTIMATION, AND FIRING OF THE M40A1 RIFLE PRIOR TO ATTENDING THE COURSE. STUDENTS SHOULD ALSO POSSESS A HIGH DEGREE OF MATURITY, EQUANIMITY AND COMMON SENSE

MARINE CORPS PFT: FOR A PERFECT SCORE: 3 MILE RUN IN 18 MINUTES, 20 DEADHANG PULL-UPS, 100 SIT-UPS IN UNDER TWO MINUTES

SWIM QUAL: 500 METER SWIM USING SIDE OR BREASTSTROKE, 50 METER SWIM HOLDING A WEIGHT OUT OF WATER, TREAD WATER FOR 30 SECONDS HOLDING WEIGHT OUT OF WATER, NO SIGNS OF PANIC.

REQUIRED GEAR:

1.ADMINISTRATIVE

(1) ORIGINAL ORDERS

(1) SERVICE RECORD BOOK (PG 3,11,12) WITH CURRENT BIR/BTR

(1) MEDICAL RECORD BOOK

(1) DENTAL RECORD BOOK

(1) MILITARY IDENTIFICATION CARD

(1) MILITARY MEAL CARD IF REQUIRED

(1) SSBC COMMAND SCREENING CHECKLIST (COMPLETED BY BN CO)

(1) FITREP ROUGH, SECTION A, WITH ALL PERTINENT INFORMATION, TO INCLUDE: DATE OF LAST FITREP AND DUTY PREFERENCE CODES (SGT’S AND ABOVE ONLY)

2\. WEAPONS

(1) NONE (ALL WEAPONS, OPTICS AND SERIALIZED GEAR WILL BE PROVIDED BY SSBC)

3\. MISSION ESSENTIAL FIELD GEAR

(1) LARGE ALICE PACK W/FRAME

(1) E-TOOL W/CARRIER

(1) WATER PROOF BAG

(1) FLAK JACKET

(2) SAPI PLATES FOR FLAK JACKET (FRONT AND BACK PLATES)

(1) KEVLAR HELMET

(2) BUSH COVERS 1 MARPAT GRN, 1 MARPAT DESERT (SEASONAL)

(1) FLASHLIGHT W/RED LENSE & 8 AA BATTERIES

(1) KNIFE, FOLDING OR FIXED BLADE

(-) 6 QT WATER CAPACITY, ANY COMBINATION OF 1 OR 2 QTS. CAMEL BACK IS

ACCEPTABLE (2 QTS ON WEB GEAR, 4 QTS ON RUCK)

(2) CAMOUFLAGE FACE PAINT KITS

(1) SLEEPING BAG W/BIVEY BAG

(1) PONCHO W/LINER

(1) SET POLY PRO TOP/BOTTOM (SEASONAL)

(1) SET GORE-TEX TOP/BOTTOM (SEASONAL)

(1) SKETCH KIT (COMPLETE)

(1) LBV, CHEST RIG, (OPERATIONAL GEAR, W/6 MAG CAPACITY, 2 FRAG

POUCHES, 2 QT WATER, 1 SMOKE POUCH, 1 DUMP POUCH WILL BE WORN OVER ARMOR) 

(1) FIRST AID KIT (COMPLETE)

4\. STALKING EQUIPMENT

(1) GHILLIE SUIT, COMPLETE W/VEIL, TOP AND BOTTOM

(1) PRUNING SHEARS

(1) SHOOTING TRIPOD W/ RIFLE SUPPORT

(1) PAIR BOOTS, MUST BE TAN OR CAMO 

(1) PAIR STALKING GLOVES

(1) CARABINER

(1) PACKAGE OF THICK RUBBER BANDS

(-) ALL STALKING EQUIPMENT MUST BE IN SERVICEABLE CONDITION

5\. COMMON GEAR LIST

(3) MARPAT, WOODLAND UTILITIES WITH NAME AND SERVICE TAPES (SEASONAL)

(3) MARPAT, DESERT UTILITIES WITH NAME AND SERVICE TAPES (SEASONAL)

(2) SOFT COVERS, 1 GREEN, 1 DESERT (SEASONAL)

(1) APPROPRIATE COLOR MARTIAL ARTS (MCMAP) BELT

(6) BLACK OR GREEN SOCKS

(1) PAIR OF BOOTS

(6) SKIVVY SHORTS

(6) GREEN T-SHIRTS

(3) GREEN PT SHORTS

(3) PAIR OF WHITE ATHLETIC SOCKS

(1) PAIR OF RUNNING SHOES

(1) SET OF ID TAGS

(1) WATCH

(3) SETS OF RANK INSIGNIA

(2) SETS HEARING PROTECTION

6\. OTHER REQUIRED GEAR

(1) SET MAP PENS (EXTRA FINE POINT)

(2) PROTRACTORS 

(2) PAD LOCKS (KEY OR COMBO)

(1) REFLECTIVE BELT

(2) INK PENS & MECHANICAL PENCILS

(1) POCKET SIZE NOTEBOOK 

(1) HIGHLIGHTER 

(1) SPRAY PAINT (FLAT GREEN, BROWN, TAN & WHITE)

(1) EXTRA BOOT LACES 

(1) 50 FOOT 550 CORD

(1) ROLL, RIGGERS TAPE

(1) SEWING KIT

(1) SET HYGIENE GEAR 

(2) BATH TOWELS 

(1) SET GLOVES

(1) SIGNAL MIRROR 

(1) WHISTLE 

(1) SANDSOCK

7\. OPTIONAL/HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

(1) PLATOON SOP BOOK

(1) POCKET SIZE BINOCULARS 

(1) POISON OAK MEDICATION 

(1) SUNBLOCK 

(1) INSECT REPELLENT 

(1) AIR PANEL 

(1) SMALL ALARM CLOCK

8\. STUDENTS FROM UNITS NOT GEOGRAPHICALLY NEAR CAMP PENDLETON. 

STUDENTS WHO CANNOT TRANSPORT LARGE AMOUNTS OF GEAR FROM THEIR PARENT UNIT WILL BE ISSUED THE FOLLOWING GEAR BY SOI, OR WILL BE EXPECTED TO ACQUIRE IT AFTER ARRIVAL AND BEFORE THE CLASS REPORT DATE: 

(1) SPRAY PAINT (FLAT GREEN, BROWN, TAN & WHITE) DO NOT CARRY ON PLANE. ACQUIRE AFTER CLASS REPORT DATE. 

(72) M.R.E.’s PROVIDED BY SSBC

STATEMENT OF ACCOUNTABILITY

I, ___________________ HAVE PERSONALLY INSPECTED ALL OF THE GEAR LISTED ABOVE AND CERTIFY THAT IT IS ALL IN MY POSSESSION AT THIS TIME. I ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT FAILURE TO HAVE IN MY POSSESSION ANY OF THE ABOVE LISTED GEAR IS GROUNDS FOR DISMISSAL FROM THE COURSE. I UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS MY RESPONSIBILITY TO MAINTAIN ACCOUNTABILITY OF ALL OF MY GEAR. I UNDERSTAND THAT FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN SUBMISSION OF A MISSING GEAR STATEMENT TO MY PARENT COMMAND AND REIMBURSEMENT OF FUNDS TO THE GOVERNMENT FOR LOST GEAR.

SIGNED: ________________________________________ DATE: ____________ 

VERIFIED BY:

PLATOON SERGEANT: _____________________________ DATE: ____________

PLATOON COMMANDER: ___________________________ DATE: ____________

GEAR NOT INCLUDED ON GEAR LIST. STUDENTS WISHING TO BRING ADDITIONAL ITEMS NOT INCLUDED ON THE ABOVE LIST SHOULD CONTACT SSBC FOR PERMISSION PRIOR TO THE COURSE CONVENING DATE. ALL STUDENTS MUST HAVE ALL REQUIRED GEAR ON THE CLASS REPORT DATE. GEAR MUST BE IN SERVICEABLE CONDITION. REFER ALL QUESTIONS TO THE SNCOIC OF SCOUT SNIPER BASIC COURSE AT (760) 725-7142/763-4787, DSN 365-7142/4787.


	6. Barney-style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Barney-style** :To over simplify a concept or the description of an object or procedure. It refers to the TV show “Barney and Friends", which is for children. Idiot proof; simplified; often said as "Breaking it down Barney-style." or “Do I need to Barney-style it for you?”

**TRAINING DAY 17 // JAN 21, 09 // 2107**

It had gotten cooler once the sun set. Not that it was particularly hot during the day, barely breaking 70F and with the breeze off the ocean. Now in the dark, crouched by a tree studying his map and compass he felt a shiver. It didn't make sense, it wasn't cold, just chilly. He clicked off his red lensed penlight, slowed his breathing, and stilled his muscles, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, listening, waiting. He could feel his blood flowing through his body. They had been separated for one of the very few individual missions, and after spending every waking moment with Wilson for the last two and a half weeks, he felt very alone.

Barnes ran his thumb along his trigger finger. He wouldn't have been able to see his words in the dark, but he knew the shape of them perfectly. The blocky, all uppercase, cramped handwriting that made more sense now that he knew it was the handwriting of a sniper. A man who was used to fitting his notations in a tiny range-card. Who needed to fit a wealth of information in a small space but needed to keep it legible, hence the uppercase. Seconds ticked by as he waited. Even on alert, he was startled by the brush of fingers on the back of his neck. 

“You're dead Marine” a warm breath tickled Barnes' jaw. No sound, no rustle in the underbrush or movement in the dark gave him away, Barton just materialized behind him. Somehow, impossibly, squatting right behind him, too close for Barnes to have not noticed him move into position. 

Barnes’ stomach dropped, he had quietly been hoping for a perfect score. He was on course, on an above average pace, and he knew he’d be one of the first ones in, not the first though, that would be Maximoff. He had hit all the checkpoints, not tripped any of the sound-traps or been spotted by one of the instructors prowling the course, _at least until now_. Instead of executing this flawlessly he looked like an idiot in front of his soulmate. 

He’d had high hopes about Barton as his soulmate at first, that immediate connection and chemistry was clearly there. But then they’d been so busy, and it wasn’t like he could seek out the Sergeant in the little bit of down time they had. He’d been hoping Barton would come to him, but he hadn’t. Barnes had caught him staring a few times but they hadn't spoken yet, not really. And then last week he had learned who his soulmate was. He’d known he was a Scout Sniper, but what he hadn't known was that he was _Hawkeye_. 

The Marine Corps rumor mill was legendary, tiny incidents blowing up into huge stories and then spreading like wildfire. But the story of the Scout Sniper, call-sign of Hawkeye, with 32 kills in Afghanistan, wasn't just gossip or a blown out of proportion tale of heroics. That was just it, it wasn't some epic ass kicking story, it was simple. He was a recon Marine, part of an overwatch detachment, the guardian angel for the grunts out on patrols, and every mission he ran where they made contact he added to his kill count. He spotted every threat, never missed, and was never seen. Just heard over the comms, calling in observations and clear paths for the guys on the ground. The eyes in the sky, untouchable and deadly. 

Barnes had been in Iraq at the time, but even in an entirely different theater he’d still heard the stories. He’d never caught a name to go with the callsign, it hadn't really mattered, so he hadn't realized that's who Barton was, not at first, he’d just been some Sergeant. Once he’d heard the whispers though he couldn't help feeling a little intimidated. Logically he knew that Barton put his pants on one leg at a time just like him. And then there was the fact that people told stories about him too. 

Stories that were exaggerations of the truth he was sure; he’d just done his job that day, reacted like he was trained and let his body listen to muscle memory. He wasn't some huge hero. He’d done his best to remind himself that Barton was just a guy, a guy who clearly hated running and being awake before sunrise, with an addiction to coffee and who seemed even more bored teaching basic classes then Barnes was having to sit through them. But then he did things like this, a truly impressive show of skills that left Barnes looking like the stumbling boot. He found himself torn between self-doubt and being impressed. 

“You noticed something, what was it you picked up on?” Barton’s voice was soft and he stayed crouched in Barnes's space. He was so close he could feel the heat coming off of him. It took a moment to process the question.

“I don't know,” Barnes admitted “just...something was off.”

“It’s good you trusted your instincts, that's a good start.” He shifted his weight as he spoke “Your position was okay but not perfect, do you know where you went wrong?”

Barnes hesitated over the admission of having no clue.

“I gotcha ‘cause of the wind. Here,” Barton put a hand on his hip and turned his body, tucking his side tight to the tree “like that, with the wind coming from behind, can you feel it?” Barnes gave a little nod, not at all distracted by the hand that had not left his hip. “You need to pay attention to all of your senses, your eyes and ears aren't enough in the dark, use your nose too. Can you smell me?” 

He could, a mix of sweat, coffee, carbon and CLP. Barnes decided a nod was safer than trusting his voice betraying how much he liked the smell.

“If you’d been here and paying attention to your nose I couldn’t have gotten this close before you detected me.” Barnes nodded again in acknowledgment. 

There was a pause while they stayed there in each others space. Barnes’s body was singing with awareness of Barton’s sent, the heat of him, the touch of his hand on him, he waited, holding his breath as Barton leaned in closer. 

“Okay, umm right, just uh you should hurry up if you don’t want Maximoff to beat you too bad.” Barton stammered, pulling his hand away and backing off before melting into the darkness.

Barnes waited a moment, staring at the spot where Barton had disappeared, thinking. If he hadn't know for a fact that Barton was a combat hardened Marine he would have guessed the expression on his face before he pulled away had been fear. Was it possible? Why would he be afraid? What was there to be afraid of? It only took a moment to ponder these questions before he had an answer. His stomach clenched and his eyes stung. Of course, he was an idiot to not be terrified as well. He’d been so busy being excited over finally meeting him and distracted by his attraction it hadn’t occurred to him to notice the obvious fear innate in loving someone in uniform.

He couldn’t help but remember the day he had come home from the recruiter's office and told his mom he was enlisting. It was the biggest fight they’d ever had. He'd ended up leaving, spending the month before he left for boot camp on the pull-out couch at Steve’s. They hadn't spoken again for a year, not until he was about to leave for his deployment. He’d called to talk to Becca when Mom had answered, but instead of immediately handing the phone over to Becca without saying anything as per usual she’d said “Come home, don’t you dare die over there.” 

Two weeks before his third birthday a missile had hit a U.S. military barracks in Saudi Arabia, killing 28 Army Reservists. One of them had been Mom’s soulmate, his father. He was too young to remember the man at all, but he did remember the noise she had made when the men in dress uniforms knocked on their door. He’d been sitting on the stairs looking down at the entryway, he would never forget the image of her collapsing to her knees, hugely pregnant with his baby sister while the Chaplain with his shiny medals held her hands. Loving someone in a uniform was dangerous. 

He clenched his jaw as he came to a decision. He couldn't blame Barton for being afraid, but Barnes hadn't let his fear stop him from enlisting, from doing what needed to be done in Iraq, from applying to SCBB and he wouldn't let it stop him now. Apparently he would need to convince Barton he was worth the risk. And while he would never match Steve’s willingness to leap at a challenge, he wasn't gonna back down from this one.


	7. DOPE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **DOPE** : Data On Previous Engagement. Information on sight settings and/or wind corrections for a rifle under given conditions. This data is collected in the shooter's rangebook for future reference. Used as slang to indicate information is not only heard but understood and remembered.

-Fri, 01/23/2009-

 **[0548]** **Hawk:** hey i cant find any of my bootbands 

**[0548] Hawk:** can i borrow a set?

 **[0549] Widow:** u have an extra set in your sock drawer 

**[0550] Hawk:** i already checked there

 **[0550] Hawk:** oh hey, i found some :D

 **[0550] Widow:** lemme guess, in your sock drawer

 **[0552] Hawk:**...no

 **[0553] Widow:** your an idiot

 **[0553] Hawk:** but im your favorite idiot

 **[0553] Hawk:** you loooove me

 **[0555] Widow:** that is blatantly untrue

 **[0556] Hawk:** awww, nat

 **[0557] Widow:** fine, your tolerable

 **[0557] Hawk:** :D love you too

 **[0559] Widow:** wait why the fuck are you awake right now

 **[0600] Hawk:** i got up early to wash my cammies, just pulled them out of the dryer

 **[0601] Widow:** didn’t you just wash your shit tuesday

 **[0601] Hawk:** yeah

 **[0602] Widow:** since when did you wash your uniform twice a week!?

 **[0602] Widow:** or get up early for anything??!!

 **[0602] Widow:** who are you and what have you done with clint??!

 **[0603] Hawk:** shut up, you wear a fresh set like everyday

 **[0605] Widow:** yeah, cause i give a shit and prefer to not smell like BO 

**[0605] Widow:** OMG

 **[0605] Widow:** CLINT seriously!

 **[0606] Widow:** you LIKE him

 **[0606] Hawk:** shut up

 **[0607] Widow:** your adorable

 **[0608] Hawk:** fuck off

 **[0608] Hawk:** its not a big deal

 **[0609] Widow:** its a huge deal and its adorable

 **[0609] Hawk:** i hate you

 **[0610] Widow:** aww

 **[0619] Widow:** alright i’ll stop

 **[0619] Hawk:** its not a big deal

 **[0620] Widow:** it is a little bit

 **[0620] Widow:** but its okay

 **[0621] Hawk:** its stupid

 **[0622] Widow:** no its not, your allowed like your soulmate

 **[0623] Hawk:** what happened to my bff who always says“i’m happier alone”

 **[0624] Widow:** nothing, i am happier alone

 **[0624] Widow:** but your not me

 **[0625] Hawk:** whats that supposed to mean

 **[0626] Widow:** it means i’m happy as a blank but your not

 **[0626] Widow:** you have a soulmate which means you r ment to be with this guy 

**[0631] Widow:** don’t be an idiot and let your issues fuck this up barton

 **[0632] Hawk:** my “issues”

 **[0632] Widow:** dont get all butthurt on me

 **[0633] Widow:** you know what i mean

 **[0634] Hawk:** yeah i know

 **[0635] Widow:** look im sure he likes you too

 **[0635] Widow:** not that i know why he would:p

 **[0636] Hawk:** fuck off, im fantastic

 **[0637] Widow:** sure 

**[0638] Widow:** but seriously he’s into you 

**[0640] Hawk:** idk

 **[0641] Widow:** 20 $ he wants that dick

 **[0642] Hawk:** lol arn’t lady marines supposed to be proper

 **[0642] Widow:** kiss my ass barton

 **[0643] Widow:** and speaking of ass he totally wants yours

 **[0644] Hawk:** what did he say something?

 **[0644]Hawk:** you want anything from starbucks

 **[0645] Widow:** no he did not say anything to me you dumbass

 **[0645] Widow:** i just know

 **[0645] Widow:** yeah, my usual

 **[0646]Hawk** : how do you ‘know’

 **[0646] Hawk:** k

 **[0647] Widow:** just trust me on this

 **[0648] Hawk:** if you say so

 **[0648] Widow:** i do

 **[0649] Widow:** now hurry the fuck up with my breakfast

 **[0650] Hawk:** yes ma’am

 **[0710] Widow:** where r u, we start in 5

 **[0711] Hawk:** 2 mikes out

 **[0711] Widow:** you better have remembered my muffin

 **[0711] Widow:** and not have eaten it on they way here

 **[0712] Hawk:** dont u trust me

 **[0713] Widow:** under fire for sure, with my chocolate muffin not so much


	8. CLP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CLP** : Military Specification, Lubricant, Cleaner and Preservative for Weapons and Weapons Systems. CLP is intended for field application to facilitate the effective removal of firing residues, gums, and other contaminants from weapon components while providing lubrication and short term preservation for reliable weapons operation.

**TRAINING DAY 22 // JAN 26, 09 // 1542**

Water splashed onto Clint's boots as he filled up his camelback. His neck was sore and a headache was starting behind his eyes, a morning spent looking through a scope taking a toll. He leaned against the brick wall of the armory next to the spigot he’d just used to get water, dropping his chin to his chest to ease the tension in his neck. Digging into his cargo pocket for the single dose packet of advil he kept there for just this kind of occasion. Tearing the packet open proved impossible so he had to pull his knife out to cut into it. 

“Jesus christ you fucking thing just open.” Luckily there wasn’t anyone there to see him struggling and muttering to himself. He finally succeeded with only a single cut to his thumb, which he suck in his mouth while he closed and pocketed the knife, the familiar taste of carbon and CLP mixed with the cooper of blood. A quick look showed the cut to be superficial, the bleeding already stopping, so he proceeded to toss back the advil with a mouthful of water before straightening and doing a few upper body stretches. After working out the worst of the tension in his shoulders he closed his eyes and returned to his slump against the wall, absently chewing on the camelbaks mouthpiece.

As a rule, Clint didn’t mind weapons maintenance, but as an instructor he didn’t actually have a rifle to clean, and watching the pigs clean wasn’t exactly thrilling. He decided to take five minutes, then he’d get back out there. He could hear the class, they were just around the corner taking up the group of tables under the shade structure. The sound of their idle chatter not quite covering the clicks and clanking of metal against metal. 

With a heavy sigh he reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck, his head had stopped pounding but his neck still hurt. He thought wistfully of Romanoff's painful deep tissue massages and wondered if he could bribe her for one later. His mind wandered as his hands continued until he noticed his right hand had run down his collar-bone towards his shoulder, his fingers running over the spot where the butt of a rifle should rest. 

Called the shoulder pocket, this fleshy, muscled area is the ideal spot for a gun to press against and absorb the recoil. If he’d been behind a rifle all day, instead of a scope, it would be sore. He decided to write his hand traveling there off as muscle memory and jerked his mind away from thinking of the loopy writing that spelled out his soulmark there just as quickly as he jerked his hand away from the spot. 

There was a burst of laughter and a commotion from the class that presented itself as a distraction. He straightened and walked over to see what the fuss was about. It took only a moment of listening to bets being tossed around to figure out what was happening. It was inevitable, it happened at some point with every class. Too many movies. 

In reality there was no scene where the young hero and his rival are blindfolded and made to reassemble their rifles. No timed competitions or a chance to show off an arguably useless skill. There was no need to make them do it, they did it themselves. 

Apparently, today it was Maximoff and Barnes who were the center of attention. The two of them sitting, facing each other with their rifles in pieces on the table, the rest of the class circled up around them. Maximoff was running his mouth, while the other half of the set of twins stood behind him, her face set in the near constant frown of having to back up her obnoxious brother, who was currently making all sorts of claims about how he was the fastest on his feet and would kick Barnes's ass at this too. Barnes on the other hand was quiet, with just a little smile on his face. 

It made sense that it was these two. They had quickly proven to be the top of the class, it seemed like every other event it was one or the other coming in first. Maximoff clearly had the advantage at land nav, but so far Barnes had been on top at the range. The Marine Corps is a competitive atmosphere at any time but here, amongst the elite, it took it to another level. He suspected these two guys would probably not be best friends in other circumstances but not necessarily be so aggressively rivals, but here, with the class standing around shouting vulgarities, they were out for each other's blood.

Clint did what he did every time the class started up this nonsense, crossed his arms across his chest, leaned against one of the posts of the shade structure and sat back to watch. If they wanted to prove who had the bigger dick that was up to them. It couldn't hurt, and they weren't here for these Marines to make buddies. They were here to prove they had would it took to be a Scout Sniper; and just because it wasn't on the official qualifications, being a cocky bastard was definitely a necessary part of that.

Wilson was collecting bets on a piece of paper pulled from his range book. Then he declared it was time to begin, with some dramatic flair he set his watch to stopwatch then counted down. A brief hush fell over the group as they watched Barnes and Maximoff, with their hands flat on the table on either side of the pile of bits of metal. Wilson shouted “go” and the cacophony of noise was ridiculous, Clint couldn't help but smile and let out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

It only took a couple of seconds. They were required to take their rifles everywhere, they cleaned them every day, disassembled and reassembled them over and over, they knew them better than their own dicks by the time they finished SCBC. Both of them were silent as they slammed bores and barrels together, practically in sink, unable to tell who was ahead of the other until the butt of Barnes's rifle hit the table top and in an immeasurably small amount of time Maximoffs followed. Barnes just smiled while Maximoff started shouting something about Barnes’s mother and a goat. Money exchanged hands and the group broke up as Maximoff grabbed his rifle and stalked away to another table, Wanda trailing behind.

“Very impressive Barnes.” Clint didn't try and hide the sarcasm in his voice as he settled on the bench across from him. 

Barnes just grinned and replied, “Just because it's stupid doesn't mean I don't like making Maximoff look like an idiot.” Clint couldn't help but laugh at that. 

“Yeah yeah good job now you look like a big tough guy.” The initial crowd had dispersed at the end of the competition but there are still a number of Marines who had stuck around to hear whatever wisdom Sergeant Barton was here to share with them. He couldn't help but give a little shake of his head while thinking how ridiculous it was to come to him for wisdom. Barnes was taking his rifle back apart, more slowly this time, picking up a rag and getting back to cleaning, which was what they were all supposed to be doing instead of engaging in pissing contests.

“I don't suppose you could do better, Sergeant? When was the last time you actually fired one of these things?” Clint couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bubbled out of his chest. That took some serious balls. He knew it was unlikely that Barnes didn't know who he was at this point and it was one thing to challenge a fellow student but it was bold to throw a gauntlet down in front of him. 

Clint just happened to be particularly good at his job, but if his fellow Marines wanted to act like he was some sort of legend he wasn’t going to dissuade them. Every few classes there was always one Marine with a case of overconfidence or some sort of self-worth issue that felt the need the challenge the Hawk. They usually did it on the range though, hoping to prove that they were better than him, trying to draw him into a shoot-off of some type. But it never worked out like they wanted, Coulson had absolutely no time for that bullshit on his range. Clint’s favorite part was that Coulson always made it clear to the Marine that the reason he wasn't going to let it happen was not because he didn't want to waste rounds or time but because they had no chance up against Barton.

Clint took a moment, looking at Barnes’ smirk he realized it wasn't a one-upmanship challenge nor was it an attempt to prove he was as good as him. Nope, that smirk was definitely a flirty smirk, not a superior smirk at all, it was a fun, flirting with you look. Well, alright then, that's an entirely different situation. From the instructor's point of view he should have never sat down, let alone waited this long before telling Barnes to fuck off and get back to cleaning his rifle. From the point of view of a human being with a pulse sitting across from that _look_ his first instincts were to flirt right back. But this wasn't just a student and this wasn't just an extremely attractive man, this was his soulmate. He couldn't deny that he was drawn to Barnes, but hadn’t shaken his doubts about soulmates yet.

He had waited way too long to respond and the Marines that were standing around, who'd heard Barnes, were starting to shift uncomfortably. Barnes clearly picked up on his indecision, maybe not being able to perfectly understand, but realizing he’d put Clint in a corner. His smirk went from flirty to a softer, kinder smile before he made the decision for him. He turned to the Marine standing next to him, Wilson, of course.

“Hey, give the Sergeant your rifle and let's see what he's made of.” 

“Yeah, okay, your funeral” Wilson quipped as he lifted his rifle from his side. He locked the bolt back to show clear and then swung it forward to offer it butt first to Clint, who only hesitated a moment before reaching out for it. 

“Alright, fine I’ll show you how it's done” he finally spoke, with a heavy, put upon sigh. 

The rest of the class started to drift closer, curious. Unlike the challenge between Barnes and Maximoff there's no shouting and betting but they clustered up again wanting to see, but not wanting to offend the instructor and the legendary Hawkeye. It only took a moment to disassemble the two rifles and lay them out in front of them placing their hands flat on the table while Wilson reset his stopwatch. 

Barnes was grinning at this point, clearly pleased with himself. Clint wasn't sure if it was because he expected to win or just that he’d managed to get Clint to play. He realized in those seconds it took Wilson to countdown that this was the longest they had engaged with each other yet, and definitely the most eye contact. He supposed it made sense, obviously they were both competitive individuals, their first actual interaction should be like this, it was fitting. 

On Wilson’s “go” they were in motion, grabbing up the pieces in front of them and sliding them together. Clint may have been showing off by not even looking down at his hands the whole time, keeping his eyes fixed on Barnes’ face. He finished and casually leaned the rifle against his shoulder while he waited for Barnes. 

“Well then, alright, you've got me.” Barnes didn't even bother putting the rifle up in the finished position when he got the last pieces in place. He simply threw up his hands with a laugh, accepting his defeat with good nature. Yes, these Marines had been carrying these rifles around with them for the past month. But he'd been carrying a M40 for years, he'd been to war with one, he killed with one, he’d bled on one. Barnes was good but he never stood a chance.

He didn’t seem to mind that he’d lost though, he just continued to give Barton that _look_ , the fun, flirting with you look, and Barton realized he wanted to find another excuse to see it again, soon.

“Alright fuckers, back to work.” Clint stood and returned Wilson’s rifle magnanimously before turning to go find Nat in order to fork over her 20 bucks; resigned to the fact that he would be hearing about how she was right for while. 


	9. STUDY MATERIALS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STUDY MATERIALS // FLASH CARDS // CPL J. BARNES

**Alternate Position** A back-up position selected by a sniper to which he can displace and still shoot into his original Sector of Fire

**Avenue of Approach** A road, path, or open area across which the enemy could advance toward you, depending on whether he's mounted or dismounted. Snipers should cover dismounted ones.

**Ballistic Advantage** A concept whereby a sniper should seek engagements only when he's at least 400 yards away from his quarry and beyond the effective range of the enemy riflemen.

**Bullet Drop** The ballistic measurement of how far a bullet drops, at 100 yard intervals, were the barrel pointed perfectly parallel to the Earth. A baseline trajectory used for computing other ballistic data.

**Bullet Trace** Also called "bullet track." A tiny but visible wisp of trail left through mirage by a bullet's shockwave.

**Catastrophic Brain Shot** A special one-shot-kill to the brain stem or neural motor strips which kills so instantly that body reflexes cannot react.

**Concealment** Bushes, ditches, etc., that offer concealment from observation, but not always protection from fire. Ideal route to a sniper's hide should have both cover and concealment.

**Countersniping** Various techniques and tactics to eliminate a sniper, or at least limit his effectiveness, ranging from blinding him with smoke to firing a wire-guided missile at him.

**Cover** Buildings, thick trees, etc., which offer protection against small arms but not always concealment.

**Cutting sign** Tracking term meant to cut back and forth across a quarry's likely route until discovering "sign" of his passage.

**Drag Bag** A heavily camouflaged rifle case dragged behind a low-crawling sniper in a Ghillie Suit so he has both hands free for picking his way through brush.

**Engagement** One shot or a series of shots fired by a sniper from one hide during one short period.

**Engagement Sequence** A standard series of steps a sniper takes from the instant he detects a target until he fires. This is practiced to ensure the sniper has taken into account range and wind and prepared himself for likely 1-shot kill.

**Eye Relief** The distance between a shooter's dominant eye and the rear (ocular) scope lens from which he can clearly see the entire scope field of view. Usually 3 or 4 inches.

**Field of Fire** An area relatively free of obstruction into which a sniper can fire, ideally up to the maximum range of his weapon.

**Field of View** The angular measurement of how wide an area can be observed through an optical device. Spotting scopes have a very narrow Field of View, rifle scopes wider, binoculars even wider.

**Follow-through** A shooter's continuous concentration and non-reaction after firing a shot so he develops a mental and physical habit of no disruption at instant of shooting.

**Ghillie suit** A type of camouflage clothing designed to resemble heavy foliage. Typically, it is a net or cloth garment covered in loose strips of burlap, cloth or twine, sometimes made to look like leaves and twigs, and optionally augmented with scraps of foliage from the area. Snipers may wear a ghillie suit to blend into their surroundings and conceal themselves from enemies or targets.

**Hide** The temporary or permanent position a sniper occupies to engage a target. Depicted on a map as a triangle with a scope crosshair inside. A good hide should have excellent concealment and cover, good observation, Fields of Fire, and a "backdoor" through which the sniper can invisibly displace to another hide position after engaging.

**Hold** Compensating for wind or elevation by purposely aiming high/low or right/left instead of changing the setting on your scope. This is the fastest means of engaging multiple targets at assorted distances.

**Lead** The side width of a human body--about 12 inches--used to estimate how far a sniper should lead a moving target. Ex: at 500 yards a sniper must aim two Leads ahead of a walking man and four leads ahead of a running man.

**Maximum effective range** The greatest distance at which a weapon can inflect casualties, based upon both the energy of a bullet and the weapon's inherent accuracy.

**Muzzle energy** A bullet's KE measured in foot-pounds as it exits a rifle muzzle.

**Muzzle velocity** A bullet's speed when it leaves rifle's muzzle, in FPS. Speed declines during flight as does energy.

**Natural line of drift** the route human beings most naturally would take from place to place. Usually parallel to streams, down middle of valleys, enemy soldiers walking slightly inside woodlines and crossing danger areas at narrowest possible points.

**Permanent wound channel** The path of permanent tissue damage left by a bullet, usually an inch or 2 in diameter. When this channel passes thru vitals organs or nerve tissue, significant injury or death results.

**Primary position** The hide a sniper initially uses in a deliberate defense, from which he can engage targets in an assigned sector of fire.

**Range card** A detailed sketch of a sniper team sector of fire, including all prominent terrain, likely enemy avenues of approach, cover the enemy may use, and dead space, with range estimates so the sniper can engage targets quickly.

**Sector of fire** An assigned area into which a sniper places his fire. Usually this is a portion of a wider field of fire, but is sometimes as wide.

**Shooting platform** A bench or table constructed so a sniper can fire prone through an upper-story window from deep inside a room.

**Sign** Tracking term meaning any indicator of human activity, from a footprint to a candy wrapper.

**Sniper data card** A detailed record of ballistic data, developed and periodically modified, on the performance of a particular sniper rifle while used by a particular sniper. Enables sniper to know his weapon intimately, understand performance in all weather conditions, ranges, and targets.

**Spotter** A trained sniper and member of a two-man sniper team who helps the sniper detect and identify targets, then adjust his fire on the target. He's also responsible for close-range security.

**Spotting scope** A single-lens scope, usually of 20 power or greater and used with a tripod for long-range observation, adjusting the sniper's fire, and reading mirage for wind speed and direction.

**Stalking** The ability to move silently and invisibly, which incorporates camouflage, selecting the best route to a hide, physical fitness, and self discipline.

**Stockweld** The habitual placing of a shooter's cheek at the exact same spot on his stock, shot after shot, so that his eye relief and scope picture become consistent.

**Suppressor** A device that uses baffles and fine meshing to dissipate and slow the escape of gases from a weapon muzzle and thereby reduces the normal muzzle report.

**Surveillance hide** A hide selected and prepared for observation only, and therefore its Field of View and concealment are the most important selection criteria.

**Target Priority** The declining order in which a sniper engages targets so that he shoots the most important ones first Target priority will vary according to day and night and the situation. An enemy sniper is always a friendly sniper's first priority target.

**Tracking** One of two techniques for engaging moving targets. The shooter swings with and ahead of the target, holding an appropriate Lead for the target's speed and range.

**Trapping** One of two techniques for engaging moving targets. In this technique, the shooter picks a point ahead of the target, holds steadily on the point, then squeezes off a shot when the target arrives there.

**Trajectory** The arched path a bullet follows from a rifle's muzzle until it hits the ground. The steepness of this arch varies depending on the angle at which the shooter holds the rifle--and this, of course, will vary according to how far away his intended target is located.

**Zero** The adjustment of an optical or open sight so that a bullet precisely hits a target at a given distance.


	10. Devil Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Devil Dog** : According to United States Marine Corps legend, the moniker "Teufel Hunden" was used by German soldiers to describe U.S. Marines who fought with such ferocity in the Battle of Belleau Wood in 1918 that they were likened to "Dogs from Hell."

**TRAINING DAY 29 // FEB 2, 09 // 1009**

The class was spread out along the ridge. After a grueling hike up the mountain they had been dropped off pair by pair. The mission was to make a good hide, do a field sketch of the area, and then stand by, waiting to be cleared to fire on their hypothetical target. Eventually Colson would head back down the mountain, collecting them as he went, but for now Barnes and Wilson had spent the last 20 minutes settling in, camouflaging their location, digging themselves in between some bushes with good sight lines. Barnes laid down behind his rifle, shifting about for a moment until he was confident he could maintain this position for however long he needed to. Once he was in place he grunted and Wilson stretched out next to him. 

Their bodies touched from shoulder to hip and after setting up his scope and adjusting it to his liking, Wilson tossed his left leg over the back of Barnes’ right leg. Pressing in closer, synchronizing their breathing, helping to stabilize Barnes so when it came time to fire they would both absorb the recoil. Once they were fully settled Wilson pulled out his notebook and started sketching,noting down the measurements that Barnes provided; distance to the target, the speed and direction of the wind, humidity and temperature.

There had been some tossing back and forth of bullshit as they’d been digging in but they'd both been quiet for a while until Wilson's sudden yelp and exclamation of “Holy fuck Sergeant, where'd you come from?” broke the silence. Barnes managed to keep from startling, simply lifting his head from his rifle, his eyes taking a moment to refocus as he looked to his right, where Barton was kneeling down next to Wilson. 

“Alrighty, lemme see that” he muttered, taking Wilson’s sketch and looking it over. 

As they waited silently for Barton’s verdict Wilson raised himself up on his elbows, causing his weight to shift and his hip to press against Barnes. After spending the last month within arms reach of each other at all times Barnes knew that when Wilson’s left ankle pressed down on his that it was deliberate. Without uttering a word aloud Sam said _chill bro, play it cool,_ Barnes return of pressure, so slight it was unobservable, replied _shut up, I’m always cool_. 

“So, Sergeant, we good?” Wilson asked.

Barton just gave a vague hum and returned the sketch. 

“What does _that_ mean Sargeant? My shit is squared away, fucking locked on, tight as a virgin.” Wilson sputtered.

Barton stepped over them and dropped down on Barnes’ left. 

“Your sketch is fine Wilson relax, its the range call I’m not sure about.” Barton’s response caused Barnes amusement at Wilson's freak out to vanish, replaced by a flush of indignation. 

“My call is good” Barnes stated firmly, definitely not sounding as defensive as Wilson.

Barton seemingly ignored him as he pulled his pack off and extracted a pair of binoculars before stretching out. He was not nearly as close as Wilson was but there wasn’t much room between them either. There was a pause while they stared at him while he peered down at the target. 

“What’d you call it at?” He finally asked.

“635.” Barnes supplied immediately.

“Yeah, okay that's right.” Barton turned his head to grin at him. 

“Man, are you fucking with us?” Sam demanded.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, his tone innocent but his eyes danced.

“Goddam stupid fucking competitive flirting bullshit, you're both idiots.” Sam bitched under his breath, clearly conveying his massive annoyance, while settling back into position. “Like seriously, what kind of fucked up mating rituals is this? What happened to flowers and chocolate? Y'all are ridiculous.” 

Barton just chuckled and rolled on to his side, managing to look relaxed and comfortable in the dirt. It made sense, being like this, dug into a hole in the ground covered with underbrush, it was a second home to a sniper. That train of thought led him to blurting out a question before fully thinking it through.

“How’d you get here?” 

Barton arched a brow, “what do you mean?” 

Barnes mentally scrambled for a moment before going with, “Why’d you join up?” Everyone had a different variation on the same few reasons, hopefully his answer could be an insight into the man.

Barton took a moment before starting. “I went to the recruiters office right after 9/11 but they turned me away, not old enough you know, told me to come back legal and with a diploma.” He gave a shrug “didn’t have much going on, no reason to stay, not much of a chance at college and it seemed like the thing to do. So I fast-tracked high school to graduate early, took summer classes between junior and senior year and everything, so I could go as soon as I turned 17.” 

“How long have you been doing this?” Giving a vague hand gesture at their position. 

“What? Sniping or instructing?” 

Barnes responded with a shrug and most definitely not any trace of a blush.

“Well I’ve been sniping from the get-go really. I went to Iraq right after I hit the fleet, a series of coincidences ended up with me as the platoons sharpshooter. Which was when I managed to make a good impression on General Carter, who recommended me for Recon. So I went to BRC and SSCB, plus a bunch of other high speed training. Then two rotations in Afgan and now I’ve been doing this a few months.” It was a quick summary, and made no mention of his reputation. It left Barnes with more questions after he was done then before though. Barton had seemed willing enough to answer so he figured it couldn't hurt to ask another.

“Why leave the field, why become an instructor?”

The shift in Barton’s body language was subtle, but he went from open and engaged to tight lipped. Barnes wished he could reach out and take the question back, the last thing he wanted was to push Barton away by touching on sensitive topics too soon. 

“Aww, well Nat and I ended up being the guests of the Taliban for a minute there, so command decided a rotation state-side would do us good.” He delivered it with a nonchalant shrug and a grimace. 

There was a pause while Barnes digested this before giving the only response that came to mind.

“Fuck.”

Barton threw his head back and laughed “Yeah, that about sums it up. What ‘bout you hmm, what brings you to our glorious corps?” 

He had brightened back up but clearly wanted to move the conversation away from himself, so Barnes obliged him.

“Oh you know, partly the classic need to live up to my father, a bit of the cliche desire to serve my country, a dash of lack of options at home, but mostly just looking to challenge myself.” His own answer was honest, but glossed over probably just as much as Barton’s had. 

“SBCC enough of a challenge for you?” He asked, with a grin.

He couldn’t help but chuckle “Oh yeah, this shit is no joke, but you know that.”

Barton just _hmm’d_ his agreement. They laid there for another moment, just looking at each other, both with a smile on their faces when Barton’s watch beeped.

“Gotta go.” He popped to his feet, his binoculars disappearing into his pack. “Hang tight, you’ll get your call to fire soon.” and then he turned and melted into the trees.

Sam had been a quiet presence to his right for the whole exchange. He had surely listened to every word, and had questions of his own, but had held his tongue, or at least waited until Barnes had disappeared.

“Well look at that, an actual conversation.” In Barnes’ opinion the sarcasm in Sam’s voice was heavier than necessary. “Amazing, you guys used words and then learned stuff about each other. It might be possible that worked better than staring longingly after him and writing his name inside little hearts in your diary.” 

Barnes knew regardless of all of Sam’s complaining and shit-talking that he was the founder and president of the ‘win over Barton club.’ Even if his main motivation to get them together was so he wouldn’t have to listen to Barnes run his mouth about Barton any more. He was tired of every conversation they had that was not about shooting being about how hot Barton was, how difficult figuring him out was, and wild speculation on topics covering what Barton’s thoughts on kids might be to whether he was a cat or dog person. 

“Next thing you know you boys might even acknowledge the fact that you two are soulmates or something. I don’t know, I just feel like that might be an appropriate topic of conversation, but heck, what do I know.” Barnes would never admit it but he kind of loved when Sam started in on his rants, it reminded him of Steve.

“Thanks Wilson, I never would have thought of that without your amazing help. Just ‘cause this is taking awhile doesn’t mean it’s going badly. I hope when you meet your soulmate you make a fool of yourself.”

“Don’t be stupid Barnes, that could never happen, I am charming as fuck, I couldn't make a fool of myself if I tried.”


	11. Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The official and unofficial traditions, passed from generation to generation of Marines, serve to reinforce camaraderie and set the service apart from others.The Corps' embracement of its rich culture and history is cited as a reason for its high esprit de corps.

Marine Corps Birthday

One of the most famous Marine customs is the observance of the Marine Corps Birthday. Since 1921 the birthday of the Marine Corps has been officially celebrated each year on 10 November, since it was on this date in 1775 that Continental Congress resolved, "That two Battalions of Marines be raised...." Over the years the Marine Corps Birthday has been celebrated in a wide variety of ways, depending on the location and circumstances of the Marine units. The celebration involves the reading of an excerpt from the Marine Corps Manual and a birthday message from the Commandant; the cutting of a birthday cake by the commanding officer; and the presentation of the first and second pieces of cake to the oldest and youngest Marines present.

**\-----**

The Marine Corps Values

**Honor** This is the bedrock of our character. It is the quality that empowers Marines to exemplify the ultimate in ethical and moral behavior: to never lie, cheat, or steal; to abide by an uncompromising code of integrity; to respect human dignity; and to have respect and concern for each other. It represents the maturity, dedication, trust, and dependability that commit Marines to act responsibly, be accountable for their actions, fulfill their obligations, and hold others accountable for their actions.

 **Courage** The heart of our Core Values, courage is the mental, moral, and physical strength ingrained in Marines that sees them through the challenges of combat and the mastery of fear, and to do what is right, to adhere to a higher standard of personal conduct, to lead by example, and to make tough decisions under stress and pressure. It is the inner strength that enables a Marine to take that extra step.

 **Commitment** This is the spirit of determination and dedication within members of a force of arms that leads to professionalism and mastery of the art of war. It promotes the highest order of discipline for unit and self and is the ingredient that instills dedication to Corps and country 24 hours a day, pride, concern for others, and an unrelenting determination to achieve a standard of excellence in every endeavor. Commitment is the value that establishes the Marine as the warrior and citizen others strive to emulate.

**\-----**

Rifleman's Creed

The Rifleman’s Creed is taught to Marines undergoing Basic Training at the Recruit Depots at San Diego and Parris Island. Every Marine is a rifleman. All Marines are trained, first and foremost, as a rifleman, for it is the rifleman who must close with and destroy the enemy. The rifleman remains the most basic tenet of Marine Corps doctrine. All else revolves around him. Marine Aviation, Marine Armor, Marine Artillery, and all supporting arms and warfighting assets exist to support the rifleman. Every Marine must memorize this creed and every Marine must live by the creed.

_This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than the enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. My rifle and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit._

_My rifle is human, even as I am human, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other._

_Before God I swear this creed. My rifle and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life._

_So be it, until victory is America's and there is no enemy._

**\-----**

Marines' Hymn

The official hymn of the United States Marine Corps is the oldest official song in the United States Armed Forces. It is typically sung at the position of attention as a gesture of respect. The Marines’ Hymn is a reminder of the sacrifice and courage that Marines have shown on the battlefield. It is an important part of Marine Corps culture — every Marine can recite its three stanzas by heart.

_From the Halls of Montezuma To the shores of Tripoli; We fight our country's battles In the air, on land, and sea; First to fight for right and freedom And to keep our honor clean; We are proud to claim the title Of United States Marine_

_Our flag's unfurled to every breeze From dawn to setting sun; We have fought in every clime and place Where we could take a gun; In the snow of far-off Northern lands And in sunny tropic scenes, You will find us always on the job The United States Marines._

_Here's health to you and to our Corps Which we are proud to serve; In many a strife we've fought for life And never lost our nerve. If the Army and the Navy Ever look on Heaven's scenes, They will find the streets are guarded By United States Marines._


	12. MCMAP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **MCMAP** : Marine Corps Martial Arts Program is a combat system developed by the United States Marine Corps to combine existing and new hand-to-hand and close quarters combat techniques with morale and team-building functions and instruction in the Warrior Ethos.

**TRAINING DAY 36 // FEB 9, 09 // 1346**

Clint had spent the morning moving up and down the line, taking the time to watch each shooter and each spotter individually. It wasn't enough to just check scorecards at the end of the day, he needed to pay attention to their positions, their breathing, whether or not they were trusting their spotters calls, and if the spotters were giving the shooters good calls. They could teach the pigs all day long until they were blue in the face on _how_ to shoot well, but if they didn't watch for and correct mistakes it was meaningless. 

Coulson and Romanoff we're doing the same thing, but it was well known that nobody had an eye like he did. The first day on the range he had mentally checked off half the class, knowing that they had the fundamentals and innate skills and abilities that they wouldn't need him to watch them. The other half were noted to keep an eye on, especially the few that were going to need the most help if they were going to qualify when the time came. They had a system for coaching on the range, the top half of the class Clint never bothered with at all. Those Marines were up to Coulson, who was busy doing a million other things as well, to keep an eye on. Then he and Romanoff split the bottom half, the ones that were really struggling for Barton and the rest to Romanoff.

Bishop had been one of those he’d been watching from day one. He was worried about her. She did fine when no one was watching, did great actually, but the second Clint settled on his camp-chair with his scope behind her she started dropping rounds right and left. Her spotter, Chavez, was giving her good calls. She was doing fine across the board in everything else; not the top of the class maybe, but not likely to be dropped for failing any of the tests or for physical reasons. Clint spent some time watching Bishop’s target while sitting a few shooters over and figured out the problem. It was just performance anxiety, it was the stress of having an instructor sitting behind her that was getting her.

Unfortunately, SSBC was not a place for hand holding.This was a literal matter of life and death, eventually Marines lives were going to be on the line. If a little bit of stress threw off her aim now Clint would be risking the lives of Marines who would be counting on Bishop. Clint wasn't sure if he should help Bishop, there was other shooters having technical problems that could probably make up the skills and end up passing that he should focus on. If it was a different situation he wouldn’t think twice about taking the time and coach Bishop through this. It is entirely possible to get over a little performance anxiety. However, he knew on paper the Marine Corps would want him to write Bishop off as a loss. He couldn't help feel bad though, he liked Bishop, and knew it was just a mental block. A block that if he could help Bishop get over she would be fine. 

He decided he should talk to Coulson about it, he’d bring it up that night when they were done for the day. With qualification soon they would spend all week practicing and he would have time to help her. For now he tried to put it out from his mind, there was nothing he could do to help her today and worrying about it was just giving him a headache. 

His thoughts drifted to Barnes. He had been part of the class he's been able to check off after the first day out, it was already obvious he would qualify. Normally he would stop watching a shooter that was doing that well. It was the ones that needed help or that were struggling with something that Clint needed to spend the time on. 

He’d never spent this much time watching a shooter that obviously did not need his assistance. He kept finding his eyes being drawn down to Target 3. The first week not every shot had been in the black, but by now after getting more time behind the rifle and four days before qual he was entirely in the black. Clint wasn’t a betting man, but if he was he would put money on Barnes being top of the class at the range, he might even top the course record, which was currently held by Clint. 

Currently Clint was sitting center of the line, between the twelfth and thirteenth pair. But once again he realized he’d been watching target three for the last few shots, Barnes’s target, so he jerked his eyes away and tried to focus. Chow break would be coming soon, he just needed to keep it together for a bit longer. Scanning up and down till he spotted a target run back up with no markers on it as the radio on his hip squawked “no impact no idea target four.” He stood, pulled the radio off this belt to reply “copy target four” before gathering his stool and scope and moving down to settle behind Todd and Drake. 

“Goddammit! What the hell, there is no way I didn’t even hit paper!” Todd’s voice went high pitched as he continued “The pits fucked up, there is no way. What the fuck?”

“Didn’t I say that wind call was wrong?” Drake framed it as a question but the _I told you so_ was reading clear as day. Todd lifted his upper half of his body so he could twist and glare at Drake, who returned the glare with a calm pokerface. Then the both started speaking at once, the disagreement gaining volume and quickly devolving into insults and cursing. It was at this point Barton cut in.

“Congratulations gentlemen, your target is not dead and now he knows you're here. Marines are likely going to die but don't worry you’ll both be dead soon so at least you won’t have to live with your failure for long.” 

That shut them both up, so Barton continued.

“Todd, the pits did not fuck up, they radioed in no impact no idea, you missed completely. Which is frankly unacceptable at this point, so now can you two can stop bitching at each other and tell me what the fuck happend so I can unfuck you.” 

The two of them laid there motionless for a moment, seemingly neither of them willing to be the first to speak or break away from the staring contest they were engaged in. Then Todd sighed and twisted back into position while Drake turned to speak.

“I gave him a wind call, he disagreed and went with his own, and missed.”

“You’re wrong, the wind is stronger then you’re factoring in, I can fucking feel it.” Todd’s contribution to the explanation was delivered with a wild arm gesture, as if to show the evident wind.

Barton got up off his stool and crouched down next to Todd, leaning over him to look at Drake’s calculation and then at Todd’s rifle. 

“You're both right and you're both wrong. Wind is tricky at these distances, Drake’s call is correct for the wind conditions at the target, but do not account for the wind here at the firing point. Todd’s call is correct for the wind here but does not account for the wind at the target. We’ve taught you how to deal with this.” Barton stopped and waited, but when he was met by silence he added, “this would now be the part where you work together and figure it out.” 

Todd turned his head to look at Drake while he scratched at his paper for a moment before muttering a new call. Todd accepted this without comment and made the adjustment. Barton settled back onto his stool but kept his eyes on the pair, not bothering to look at the target that both Marines now had their sights on. He was more interested in watching Todd’s body language, watch him breath in, then out, then, in that perfect moment when his body was settled and still, fire. 

They all waited as the target disappeared, pulled down into the pits to be scored, and then watched it run back up. Clint didn’t need to see the marker in the center of the target to know where the round had hit, he’d known the second Todd had pulled the trigger the shot would be good. It seemed like both Todd and Drake had been less sure because the both sighed and visibly relaxed at the proof of success. Personally Barton never spent much time looking at his targets, and almost never bothered to watch a round hit. From a combination of experience and gut instinct he always just _knew_ he’d hit. 

He managed to keep his concentration on the pair in front of him for a few more shots before he gave in and snuck a glance to the left. Watching Barnes and Wilson work together was a thing of beauty. The hypnotic rhythm of Wilson giving his call, Barnes making the adjustment, Wilson clearing him to fire, a breath and release, Bannes firing then racking a new round in one smooth motion, the pause waiting for the target to return with the 10 point marker deadcenter, Wilson calling the hit, then again from the top. 

If he didn’t know better he would have thought they’d been a team for years, not two months. He couldn't but help be impressed, even though the sharp tongued banter was near constant between them they worked together seamlessly. He wanted to suggest Coulson recommend they get assigned to their next unit together, this kind of pair should be kept together, not separated.

He worried if the suggestion came from him it would be taken as favoritism though. He could ask Nat to bring it up instead of him. Bartons eye had settled on Barnes while he thought on how to word the request to Nat. Coulson called the ceasefire while he was still deep in thought. There was no one he trusted more and no one he knew that was better at keeping something to herself, but he knew exchanging favors with her could escalate quickly if not careful.

“You gonna eat?” Barnes voice startled him out of his thoughts. 

“What?” Barton looked around and realized the shooters up and down the the line were sitting up behind their rifles, talking amongst themselves and starting to eat chow. Wilson was already spreading his jalapeno cheese on a cracker, but Barnes was still holding his MRE in his hands, looking at Barton. 

“Oh, right.” He stood, praying Barnes hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring at him, and turned to track down his pack which contained his own lunch. Wilson did not wait for him to be out of earshot before speaking.

“So we did notice the fact Hawkeye was just daydreaming while checking you out, right?”

“Yes, we noticed, now shut up and trade me your combos for a poptart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, Real Life got in the way. I intend to post the next three chapters within the next week. I'm on [tumblr ](http://mollynoble.tumblr.com/) if you want to follow for more update info.


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